


Betrayal and Beginnings

by RiversEnd



Series: A Matter of Family [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Deviates From Canon, Drama, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Past Blood Magic, Rituals Gone Wrong, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiversEnd/pseuds/RiversEnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian's father didn't just attempt, or plan, to use blood magic on his son, he succeeded.  However, due to unforeseen forces working behind the scenes, the ritual appears to have failed, leaving no effect on Dorian.  That is, until much later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have deliberated really, really long on whether or not to post this (I've held on to the first several chapters for over a month now). It is the first fic of this particular theme that I have written, and I'm unsure how it will be received. The idea is actually where "Laughter and Lies" began when it was written, and the prologue was written along side the first part of the series. I'm always a little unsure about soliciting kudos and comments, but please send me some love if you want me to continue this. I know it is completely self indulgent to post fan fiction, but sometimes it feels a little lonely.
> 
> I also reserve the right to retitle this... I hate having to come up with titles. They're such a pain sometimes...

"Dorian," the elder Pavus called out to his retreating son.  "Please don't go."

"Why should I stay?" Dorian said, not turning around.  "I'll never live up to your expectations, father."

Halward sighed.  "It's not about that anymore, Dorian.  Please.  Come home.  If I had known that my actions would hurt you like this…" his voice faded.

" _Had you known_ ," Dorian raised his voice, turning on his father.  "Father!  You tried to change me!  You tried to make me something I'm not!  All for your fucking legacy!  How the hell is that not supposed to hurt?"

The elder Pavus hung his head, another sigh escaping him.  "Please allow me to make this right."

"There is nothing to 'make right'," Dorian replied.  "Actions speak louder than words, father.  Yours say that I will never be good enough for the mighty House Pavus." He spit the title out, all the venom of his pain and anger lancing through those two words.  "I do, however, have a lover that has proven time and again that I am all that he needs.  That I am more than good enough, though the Maker knows I don't deserve him.  So if you don't mind, I would rather go home to him.  The Inquisition is my family, now."

"Then at least take this with you," Halward said in resignation as he held out a heavy, ornately tooled scroll.

Dorian looked at the offered stack as if it were going to bite.

"It's a copy of the ritual I had used…"

Dorian took a step back, outrage and betrayal on his face. "How _dare_ you!" he raged.

"Hear me, my son!" Halward protested. "I do this not to hurt you. There is a reason the ritual failed. Something was wrong with it. It was designed to fail," he said having finally gotten Dorian's full attention.  "Or to do something else."

"What was it designed to do?"

"I don't know.  I've discretely had the best scholars I can find looking in to the matter. But they have found nothing, nor do I trust any of our scholars back home.  I bring this to you, in hopes that maybe you, that the Inquisition, may have better luck.  I cannot say what was done to you."

"You don't know?  How the hell can you not know?!"

"The blood mage that performed the ritual was blackmailed by Magister Erimond and has since disappeared. I fear he is dead," Halward answered.

"Erimond?"  The name brought Dorian to a terrifying halt, his mind spinning in sudden fear. 

"He attempted to recruit me for his little Tevinter supremacy movement," the elder Pavus continued, oblivious to the true implications of his words.  "I can't remember the name.  I refused.  Somehow he found out about my decision to perform the ritual on you and found a way to gain his revenge for the slight."

"The Venatori?" Dorian gasped in realization. "He asked _you_ to join the _Venatori_?"

"Yes," Halward nodded.  "That was the name."

Dorian paled.  Before their connection to Corypheus was revealed, the Venatori had been slowly building momentum in Tevinter for years.  Many in the Magesterium had thought they were little more than crazed traditionalists until they suddenly gained a strong political standing just before the Conclave.  Alexius had been among those that were the most vocal in outright refusing them. Then Felix had mysteriously fallen ill with the Blight and Alexius joined their ranks in hope of a cure for his only son.  Dorian always thought the coincidence was a little too convenient.  Trembling, the young man reached out for the scroll still held in his father's reaching hand. 

"Father, what have you done to me?" he asked in quiet terror.

"I don't know, my son," the elder Pavus answered sadly.  For the first time, Dorian actually looked his father in the eye and he saw the truth of the man's pain and regret.  "I don't know.  All I know is that I am truly sorry, and I must fix this."

*****


	2. The News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is ill. Cullen is worried. Cole... well Cole is Cole. A visit to one of Skyhold's healers helps Dorian solve the mystery of Erimond's changes to Halward's spell.

Cullen rolled over with a smile and looked to where Dorian lay, curled up next to him in his bed.  It was becoming a more and more common for him to wake to the warmth of the other mage next to him over the past several months. When he left Kirkwall to help Cassandra form the Inquisition, he left everything behind, cutting ties with everything that had been his former life.  It was a chance to begin anew, start things over and to atone for the sins that plagued his nightmares most nights.  What he didn't expect, though, was to find forgiveness in the arms of a Tevinter mage, of all people. 

His dreams of rebirth and redemption had been simple enough.  He had a fresh start, a place to make his own outside the dictates of the Order. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself into his work.  Most days that was enough.  Any thoughts of a relationship were pushed so deep in the back of his mind they became nonexistent. Then Dorian entered his life, sweeping through like the storms that swept through northern Ferelden every spring. The man was a force of nature, passionate and unpredictable as the lightning he was fond of casting.

And here he was, curled up in Cullen's bed.

Cullen pulled the mage closer, wrapping his arms around Dorian and snuggling into his warmth.  He had no desire to get out of bed, to leave this warmth and comfort for the chill of his office below and the mess of paperwork that awaited him there.  The mage had not been himself after returning from Redciffe earlier in the week. Something was troubling him, though when Cullen asked, Dorian refused to answer. 

Duty called, however, and loathe as Cullen was to leave his lover's side, he knew that delaying the day's reports would only mean more work for him later.  With a sigh, he kissed the back of Dorian's head and slid out from the covers and out of bed, careful to not disturb his partner.  One thing he had learned early on in their relationship was that Dorian was not, in any sense of the phrase, a morning person. So he quietly got ready for his day and descended the ladder in silence, leaving Dorian to sleep a little longer.

Maker knew the mage needed it.  He had been pale recently.  Though he denied anything when questioned, Cullen had noticed a change in both Dorian's sleeping and eating habits the last month and he worried for the mage.  He wasn't the only one that had noticed, either.  The Inquisitor had come to him after dinner the night before with her own concerns.  Apparently whatever was wrong with Dorian was enough to be noticed by others, as well. Solas had noticed a subtle shift in the mage's magic, and though he couldn't quite explain how he knew, he had mentioned to Mira that he could feel that something was 'off' in regards to Dorian's mana reserves and spell casting. 

"We both know he's not sleeping well, Cullen," Mira had said.  "At first I thought it was connected to his meeting with his father. But he's been sick the past week. He claims it was some strange Orlesian cheese that he ate recently, but you and I know that something like that wouldn't last more than a few days at most.  It's been more than a week."

Cullen had agreed to speak with Dorian that night. He knew about the sleeping issues. His own nightmares kept him up often enough that he was awake for a good portion of the night to realize that Dorian was having problems.  He had been unable to talk to Dorian, however, finding the mage curled up and already asleep when he returned to their room after dinner.  With a sigh he began sifting through that morning's reports. Worrying would only do so much, and if he didn't get his work done he would be of no use to Dorian if the mage really were sick.  He would speak with him when he woke up.

Several reports and as many hours later, he dismissed the scout from his office, and headed up the ladder, concerned. As he crested the top, he noticed Dorian hadn't moved from where he left him curled up beneath the blankets.

"Hey," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Dorian's brow.  Warmth filled him as the inky locks feathered through his fingers.  He was the only one that got to see the mage in such a state.  He smiled as Dorian nuzzled into his hand.  "Do you plan on sleeping the day away, love?" he asked.

Something unintelligible rumbled softly past the mage's lips, much to Cullen's amusement. 

"Are you feeling alright, Dorian?" he asked, carding his fingers through Dorian's hair.  He frowned.  The mage's forehead felt warm, almost feverish.    "Dorian?"

"Amatus…" the mage whispered into his pillow. "Sorry." His eyes began to open slowly. "I'm not feeling myself this morning."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No…"

Before Dorian could finish whatever it was he was about to say, he lurched up, knocking Cullen out of his way as he lunged towards the chamber pot sitting next to the wall.  Sprawling on the floor, knees knocking painfully against the wooden slats, Dorian struggled to hold himself upright as he heaved, emptying his stomach. 

Cullen scrambled from where he had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor in the wake of Dorian's flight.  Concern etched on his face, the Commander knelt beside his lover, hand gently stroking his back in comfort.  "Shhh," he whispered, trying to keep the uncertainty he felt out of his voice as he gently whispered vague comforts to Dorian where he knelt on the floor, retching. 

When he finished, Dorian slumped down, sprawling gracelessly in Cullen's lap on the floor of their loft.  Cullen's hand still carded through Dorian's hair, gently trying to soothe his lover. 

"Dorian," he said softly as the mage's heavy breaths settled.  "I know you haven't been to see one of the Healer's about this," he began. "But you really should."

"Cullen…" the mage began.

"No, love," Cullen interrupted him. "This isn't going away. You've been sick for over a week, now, and you're sleeping even less than I am.  I'm worried."

Dorian sighed.  As much as he wanted to avoid any drama over what should have been a simple stomach bug, he knew Cullen was right.  Whatever this was, it wasn't going away. It was, in fact, only getting worse.  "Fine," he huffed.  "Just, let me lay here a little bit more before we go." 

*****

'A little bit more' ended up being several hours. Dorian had insisted at being perfectly attired and coifed before leaving the seclusion of Cullen's office. Still, Dorian had allowed Cullen to escort him to the infirmary with minimal complaining.  That fact alone had the Commander worried. If anyone loved drama, it was Dorian.

Still, once they arrived, one of the Healer's immediately escorted them behind a partitioned section of the infirmary for some privacy. 

"Messere Pavus, Commander," she acknowledged them as she waved them behind the screen.  "What can I do for you?"

"I seem to be ill," Dorian said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Obviously," the healer replied instantly, her voice as dry as Dorian's.  "Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

Dorian blinked, taking in the healer's tone. His mouth worked, opening and closing several times as he struggled to find something to say. The healer only nodded, gesturing to the cot that was tucked behind the screen with them.  "Sit, please," she said. 

The mage sat, his eyes casting around the room restlessly as he explained the past few weeks.  The Healer hummed as she listened, her hands hovering over Dorian's stomach.  When she was finished, she stood, scratched her head, looked around, looked back at Dorian. The mage may have thought the entire thing may have been comical had it not been his health he watched her consider with complete confusion.

"What?" he asked, almost unable to find his voice.

"I'm not entirely sure," she said back.

Dorian went pale.  What could possibly be so bad that the Healer would look so unsure, so completely at a loss?

"It's real," Cole said from where he suddenly appeared, kneeling at Dorian's feet.  The boy looked over his shoulder, that ridiculous hat obscuring his face briefly as he repeated his words to the Healer.  "It's real.  You're not imagining it."

"What?" Dorian demanded, tension filling the room.

"It doesn't know what it is, yet," the boy whispered as he reached out to Dorian's belly.  "But it knows it is."

"Excuse me?" Dorian asked, his voice a confused whimper.

"Wonderful.  New.  Something pure made from something gone wrong.  A chance for healing from hurt.  A new chance at love, family…"

"Cole?" Cullen asked.  The boy couldn't truly mean what it sounded like.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

"Someone please tell me what is going on?" Dorian asked desperately.  He looked truly lost.

"It would appear that you are pregnant, messere Pavus," the Healer finally found her voice.  "I don't know how, but it's the truth."

"That's impossible," Cullen scoffed. "How can he, a man, be pregnant?"

"It doesn't like wine," Cole said from where he still sat on the floor at Dorian's feet.  "Or apples," he continued.  "But it does like…"

"Pears," Dorian said in unison with Cole. The boy beamed up at the mage, a bright smile on his face as he nodded in agreement.  "Maker have mercy," he breathed out in disbelief.  At least now he knew the result of Erimond's spell. 

"The cook just got a fresh shipment of them in. Maybe if we ask nicely…?" Cole said. 

Dorian wasn't paying anyone any attention. Not Cole, who was rising to his feet to search out the newly arrived pears.  Not Cullen, who was arguing the impossibility of pregnancy and the male physiology.  Quietly, in shock, he stood and, pushing his way past the Healer, made his way out of the infirmary and into the afternoon sun. 

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you can't find and may be looking for the first part of the series, it's locked due to content (archive members only... sorry).
> 
> Updates may be slow and irregular.


End file.
